Fire and Ice
by Esm3rald
Summary: "In another life my name was Daenerys Targaryen. Seventeen years ago, my father Rhaegar was accused of a crime he didn't commit and sent to prison for life, where he died an innocent man ten years later. (...) When everything you love has been stolen from you, sometimes, all you have left is revenge." Inspired by the TV show 'Revenge'. Jonerys, Modern AU.
1. Prologue

**This story is inspired by the TV show Revenge, which is itself inspired by 'The Count of Monte Cristo' by Alexandre Dumas. I'm not really going to follow Revenge though, only some things. But my story will have its own spin on things.**

 **This is going to be a Jonerys story. While, at first, it could seem very similar to the relationship between Daniel and Emily in the show, I promise you, it will be very different. Also, there's a little Jack/Emily as well, mostly the childhood part and the dog thing. But the Jonerys relationship won't be like either of these relationships, really, it will be its own thing. It could be a little angsty at times, but they will be together throughout the whole story, and this story will have a happy ending eventually.**

 **Dany won't be referred with the name Daenerys for most of this story, except for those who knows who she really is and will call her with her real name. Instead, she will be called Doreah. So, Doreah is Daenerys in this story.**

 **Hope you like this idea, tell me what you think!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own 'Game of Thrones', 'A song of Ice and Fire' or 'Revenge', nor any of their characters. I also don't make money by writing this story.**

 **BTW, some sentences in this chapter are taken from the Pilot episode of 'Revenge'.**

 **Also, for those who are reading my other stories, don't worry, I will keep writing.**

* * *

 _"And now...farewell to kindness, humanity and gratitude. I have substituted myself for Providence in rewarding the good; may the God of vengeance now yield me His place to punish the wicked."_

 _\- Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo_

 **PROLOGUE**

 _In another life my name was Daenerys Targaryen. Seventeen years ago, my father Rhaegar was accused of a crime he didn't commit and sent to prison for life, where he died an innocent man ten years later.  
_

 _Before that fateful day my understanding of revenge was as simple as the Seven Pointed Stars doctrines it hid behind. Neat little morality slogans, like "do unto others" and "two wrongs don't make a right". But two wrongs can never make a right, because two wrongs can never equal each other. For the truly wronged, real satisfaction can only be found in one of two places: absolute forgiveness... or mortal vindication._

 _This is not a story about forgiveness._

 _When deception cuts this deep, someone has to pay. My father's chance to bring justice to the truly guilty was stolen from him. His only option was to forgive. I have others._

 _When everything you love has been stolen from you, sometimes, all you have left is revenge._

 **Dragonstone Island – End of September 2017**

A gun shot, whose sound is masked by the fireworks exploding in the air, and a man in a white suit falls face down on the sand. The gun is shot twice more before the man stops moving.

A few meters away, a wooden gazebo built by the beach is festively adorned in red and white colours. People are dancing and drinking, while in the background a slideshow is depicting a handsome couple – one dark haired and grey-eyed, the other silver-haired and violet-eyed – occupied in various activities: sailing, riding, having dinner, dancing.

The same beautiful young woman in the pictures, wearing a long red dress like all the other female guests, silver hair collected in a long braid falling down her shoulders and back, is standing in front of a long table whose surface is covered in various appetizers and opened bottles of champagnes and decorated with an ice centrepiece carved in the shape of a wolf.

The woman wipes a few grains of sand from her hand before she's joined by a pretty dark-haired and dark-skinned woman.

"Doreah! There you are! I've been looking for you. Where's Jon?"

"Uh, he's walking and brooding by the beach. We had a…thing. But, don't worry, he's right behind me."

"It's my job to worry. Yours is to enjoy yourself. It's your engagement party after all."

Doreah smiles at the other woman. "Thank you, Missandei. Oh, and if I haven't told you yet, this looks incredible. You did an amazing job."

Missandei smiles back at her, "Thank you." She comes closer to Doreah and whispers, "Are you sure about this? You can still back down," Missandei says in a joking tone, but her eyes belie the lightness in the question.

Doreah fakes a laugh, "I went into this with my eyes wide open. Don't worry about me. I love Jon."

Missandei nods. "I know."

They can't talk more openly than that, so they stop talking altogether and Missandei busies herself with finding Jon. "Can someone get me a 20 on Jon Snow, please?" She talks into her earpiece before walking away.

Doreah notices Tyrion Lannister waving at her from a nearby table. Some random guy Doreah doesn't remember the name of congratulates her on her engagement and she absentmindedly thank him while making her way towards Tyrion.

"Nice night for it." Tyrion says with a grin at her.

Doreah forces herself not to roll her eyes at him. "Nice night for what, Tyrion?"

"Celebrating, of course." He sips his champagne with a satisfied nod.

"You shouldn't be here." Doreah says through gritted teeth and a fake smile.

"That makes two of us." Tyrion replies. "I know you love him but…"

"That's not why I'm marrying him." Doreah says in a whisper.

" _Yes_ , that's why you shouldn't be here. What happens when he finds out who you really are?" Tyrion murmurs, his lips covered by the champagne glass.

Doreah doesn't answer. She doesn't want to think about it. The truth is that she hopes that, once he'll find out – and he will, sooner or later, because everyone else will as well – that he will forgive her, and that he'll understand. Jon doesn't know the whole truth, but if he did, he would have as many reasons as her to hate Ned and Catelyn Stark.

It's pointless to think about it now. She'll cross that bridge when she gets to it. For now, only the plan matters.

"Doreah, where have you been hiding?" Margaery Tyrell approaches her. She ignores Tyrion who raises his glass in her direction once before walking away.

Doreah turns to smile at the woman. "I was right here the whole time."

"Come on, let me see that ring." Margaery said and Doreah showed it to her once again. It was a beautiful 10 karat diamond solitaire that Jon had told her belonged to his mother.

"Jon certainly has good taste. You're a lucky girl." Margaery says with a sweet smile. Doreah smiles sweetly back but she knows Margaery had designs on Jon at one point, though she shifted her attention on Robb Stark, Jon's cousin, since then. Robb was technically the highest prize, as the male heir of Ned Stark and all his fortune, but Margaery had never forgiven Jon for rejecting her years ago.

"Oh, I know." She simply answers back. "So, where's Robb? I thought you came with him tonight?"

"I did." Margaery says. "He was here a few minutes ago. He said he would go looking for Jon. They're probably together now."

Doreah nods at Margaery but before she can add anything else, Catelyn and Ned Stark walk to stand side by side on the small stage built for the occasion, smiling at the guests around them and obviously ready to give a speech.

Catelyn took the microphone handed to her and started to speak, "fire and ice... When we first sat down to discuss tonight's occasion, I was immediately taken with the idea of an evening inspired by primal bookends, fire and ice, beginnings and endings... and the love between a man and a woman."

Doreah walks away from Margaery and takes the phone out of her purse. She calls Jon but the only answer she receives is from the answering machine.

Ned Stark takes over his wife's speech. "Tonight, not only marks the final weekend of a remarkable summer in Dragonstone, it is also the celebration of my nephew, whom I love as if he were my own son, Jon's engagement to the lovely and beguiling Ms. Doreah Martell." Doreah puts down her phone and applauds him. "And though we've only known her for a few short months, Doreah already feels like the piece of the family puzzle we never even knew was missing. In a word, I approve. And as anyone can tell you, approval is not something I give away freely." The crowd laughs. Catelyn smiles next to her husband, but her blue eyes are icy.

Ned Stark had been taken with Doreah from the start, approving of the relationship between her and Jon as soon as Jon had introduced her to his uncle and aunt. Catelyn, on the other hand, had been suspicious of her and outright hostile at times. Doreah would have commended her for her intuition if she wasn't such a thorn on Doreah's side.

Catelyn descends the stage and walks towards her. "Where the hell is my nephew?" She asks Doreah in a furious whisper.

Before Doreah can answer, a scream is heard in the distance.

 **Dragonstone Island – Five Months Earlier**

"I can't tell you what a rare opportunity you have here, Ms. Martell. The size of the lot exceeds the 6 acres, with a wide garden that surrounds the house, the swimming pool and the tennis court. The gated private road, as you saw when we came here, leads directly to the house, which is 12'000 square feet, and a three car garage. The interior's spacious living room with fireplace and the connected dining room have two french windows each that open to an oceanfront porch connected to a private path that leads to the beach less than 300 feet away and a private dock. On the same floor there's the large sun-filled kitchen with breakfast area, a bathroom, a library, a billiard and bar room, a theatre room and a laudry room. The first floor has nine ensuite bedrooms and a gym with steam, sauna and massage room. The property also includes a small cottage with a living room and kitchen, three more bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms, and its own swimming pool, which can be used to house either additional guests or the domestic staff. All of this only for eighty millions, and both the house and the cottage come fully furnished." The real estate agent says to Doreah, showing her around the mansion that had once belonged to her father. "The current owners are eager to sell, though they stayed here every summer for fifteen years. Perhaps if Mr. Arryn had been a bit more loyal to his wife, they wouldn't be selling now."

Doreah picks up a photo that depicts the couple in question. Mr. Arryn looks rather old, his short air all white, and though he had certainly been handsome once, now the only attractive feature on his face is his baby blue eyes. His wife – soon to be ex-wife – is much younger than him, but she looked worn, unhappy. Her dark red hair is sprinkled with grey and her blue eyes are dull.

"Word has it, he dumped her for a girl that could be his granddaughter. Men." The real estate agent continues but Doreah is barely listening to her.

"You mind if I look around a bit?"

"That's what we're here for."

Doreah walks out onto the porch and sees the three-headed dragon still etched into the porch baluster.

She remembers the day her father carved it with his pocket knife. It was the first day of what will turn out to be their last summer together.

It had been a reminder of who they were and where they came from. They were the blood of old Valyria, the blood of the Dragon.

 _'Fire and Blood, these are our words. And the three-headed dragon is our crest. Do you know why three heads?'_

 _Doreah – Daenerys then – had shaken her head so Rhaegar had explained. 'Because three are the stages of life: birth, life and death. And three are also the way we divide time: past, present and future. Three separate entities, but all connected with each other, like the three heads are connected to its body. Without birth, there's no life, and without life there can be no death. Without past there's no present and without present there is no future. Do you know what it means?'_

 _Daenerys had shaken her head._

 _'It means that every action, every deed, whether good or bad, has its consequence. It's just as Newton's third law states: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.'_

"Ms. Martell?" The estate agent brings her back to the present. "I have to warn you that I have other offers as well, but since you were the first to take an interest in this property, you have precedence. However, I can't stall for much longer. The summer is about to begin."

Doreah looks to her left, at the large manor house that she knew belonged to the Stark family. Seventeen years ago, it had been half the size that it was now.

"I'll take it."

"Oh. Wonderful." The estate agent said with a big smile. "I'll get the contract."


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

 **Ghaston Grey, Juvenile Detention Centre, Dorne – January 2011**

"Happy Birthday, Targaryen." The guard tells her, giving her back the few things she had when she was first arrested two years ago. "You've been emancipated."

Daenerys doesn't answer. She keeps walking, until she's finally standing outside the door of the juvenile centre. The door closes behind her.

She squints against the bright sun, finally noticing the car parked just outside the prison walls, and a man leaning over it, seemingly waiting for her.

"Daenerys Targaryen."

Daenerys takes a few steps towards him. The man is very short, with golden blond hair and mismatched eyes, one green and one black. "Who are you?"

"Tyrion Lannister. But don't hold it against me," Tyrion jokes. "I was a friend of your father. You're just as beautiful as he described."

Dany scoffs, "My father hasn't seen me in ten years. How does he know how I look?"

Tyrion frowns, his face contorting in sadness. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this but…he passed away. About six weeks ago." He then gestures to the box sitting on the hood of his car. "He wanted you to have this."

Daenerys glares. "Whatever it is, I don't want it."

"Oh no, trust me. You definitely do."

"My father was a murderer and a liar. So, why would I want anything that belonged to him?"

"Because that's just what they wanted you to believe. That's what they wanted the whole world to believe. Forget everything you think you know, Daenerys. Your father was protecting you."

"From what?"

"Open the box and you'll find out." Daenerys takes the box from Tyrion's hands but doesn't open it, not yet.

"Your father was the first person to believe in me when no one else did, not even my father. Not that that means much, my father has always thought I was a mistake, a disappointment. Anyway…Rhaegar invested in my company when no one else would. This key," He retrieves a key from his pocket before giving it to her, "opens a lockbox in Meereen. Now that you're 18, you're officially 49% owner of my company. Since my company's net worth is over 30 billion dollars, you're a very rich woman now. Board meetings are every other Wednesday, but…you don't have to show up. I never do."

That night, in the privacy of a motel room, Daenerys opens the box. Its top is engraved with the crest of House Targaryen, the three-headed dragon.

After rummaging for a bit through the pile of documents, photos and journals, Daenerys retrieves a letter.

' _ **Dear Daenerys,'**_ it says,

' _ **If you're reading this, then two things have come to pass. The first is that I'm finally able to provide you with the life you were unjustly denied. And the second is that, unfortunately, I won't be able to share it with you.**_

 _ **I know that uncle Aemon took good care of you for as long as he could. I hope you were happy with him those few years you spent together, at least.**_

 _ **I tried to stop them from leaving you with my brother, but I couldn't. Who would listen to a terrorist after all? I wanted to kill him with my bare hands when I heard what he did to you.**_

 _ **I just want you to know that I don't blame you for what happened, nor should you feel guilty about it. You did what you had to do. You were only defending yourself.**_

 _ **I'm proud of you and I love you, no matter what. Remember that.**_

 _ **I hope these journals provide you with the answers to the questions you must have had for all these years.**_

 _ **I'm not the man they say I am and I did not do the things they say I did.**_

 _ **All I ask is that you promise to do the one thing that's been so hard for me to do…Forgive.**_

 _ **With all my love,**_

 _ **Your father.'**_

 _But that was a promise I couldn't keep. I know that my father didn't leave me his box for that purpose, but I turned it into a road map for revenge that led me to the people who destroyed our lives. One by one the guilty will pay._

 _I don't want innocent people to get hurt, but sometimes it's inevitable._ _Nothing ever goes exactly as you expect, and mistakes are life and death; collateral damage is inescapable._

 **Dragonstone Island – May 2017**

Daenerys is just finishing unpacking her last things and settling down into her new home. Missandei arrives with a bottle of expensive Dornish red, entering from the glass door of the dining room, the one overlooking the back porch and the beach below.

"Hello, hello."

Doreah smiles at her, always happy to see her friend. "Missandei. It's so good to see you."

"You too." The two women embrace warmly, not having seen each other in more than three months now.

"So, what do you think?"

Missandei looks around her, a glint in her eyes. "I say it's perfect."

Doreah shrugs. "Nearly. It almost looks like it was then. Luckily the Arryns didn't change much."

"Make it too much like it was 17 years ago and the game could be over too soon."

"Don't worry. Only Lyanna Stark would know what it looked like inside. And Lyanna Stark is dead."

Missandei nods. "We should toast to your new house, or rather…to getting back the house that rightfully belongs to you. I bought a bottle of Dornish red. I thought it appropriate."

Doreah grins. "Yes, very appropriate."

The two of them go to sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace. They open the bottle Missandei brought and Doreah pours them both a glass. They clink their glasses together before sipping in silence for a few moments.

"So…? How are things proceeding?" Doreah finally asks.

"Very well, I'll say. Catelyn Stark hired me to organize her Memorial Day party, and if it all goes well, I will work for her all summer. She's a difficult woman to please, cold and proud. She adores her children and dotes on them, though she has a soft spot for her nephew, Jon Snow, as well. Though Jon is Ned Stark's favourite; he prefers Jon to his own son Robb. I'm slowly but surely gaining Mrs Stark's trust, though it hasn't been exactly easy."

Doreah smiles, satisfied. "Good. And what about the rest of the family, what can you tell me about them?"

"Ned Stark spends all his time in King's Landing so I've barely seen him these past few weeks. Sansa Stark is a spoiled brat who thinks everyone should bow down to her just because she's a Stark. Robb Stark is a playboy who loves to party and spend Daddy's money. Arya is rebellious and stubborn, a bit of a tomboy, but I like her. She's smart and doesn't look down on people who aren't as rich as her. She's also Jon's favourite cousin."

"And Jon Snow?" Doreah asks, her voice deceptively casual.

Missandei grins. "Jon Snow is a gentleman. He's kind and honest, though a little broody. And smart. Ned Stark, is, I think, grooming him to take over the company instead of Robb. I don't know how Jon feels about it but he's dutiful and has a knack for business."

"And how does Robb Stark feel about this?"

"I think he's envious of his cousin, but he would never say so, either to his father or to Jon. They're close, as close as brothers. Or at least they were, once. Now, I'm not so sure."

"Why is that?"

"I think something happened last summer, but I don't know what. I can find out for you though."

Doreah shakes her head. "No, don't worry. I will find out on my own. Don't expose yourself too much. Keep your head down."

"Of course." Missandei answers. "Are you planning on going to Mrs Stark's party?"

"Obviously. How much are the thickets?"

"10.000 dollars per person."

Doreah whistles.

"It's supposed to be a charity auction or something." Missandei explains. "Mrs Stark's going to auction a painting from House Stark's private collection and the proceeds and the money gained from the sale of the thickets will be donated to charity."

"Isn't she such a good Samaritan?" Doreah wonders sarcastically.

"Oh yes, a real pillar of the community."

"Well, I suppose I'll need a dress then." Doreah says. "Would you like to go shopping with me later?"

"I wish. But I have too much to do to spend an evening shopping. And I already bought the dress for the occasion anyway. Not that I can afford the same dresses as you."

"You know it's just a charade, right? All of it? The dresses, the jewelry, the house, the car, the household staff. I need to play the part of the rich heiress or Ned and Catelyn Stark would never accept me into their inner circle."

"I know, Dany. And it's thanks to you than I am where I am now. I don't have billions in my bank account but I still earn more than I ever thought I would five years ago. I will always be grateful to you for that."

"It's not thanks to me. It's thanks to you. I just helped you a little. But it's you who made your event planning agency into the successful business it is today. You don't need to thank me. But I'm grateful for your loyalty nonetheless."

"I would do anything for you, you know that, right?"

"I know. That's why I trust you, with my life and with my name."

Missandei nods and finishes her glass of red wine. "I should go now, before Catelyn Stark sends out a search party."

"Thank you for doing this." Doreah says, getting up from the sofa soon after Missandei.

"It's not like I'm not getting something out of this as well. Catelyn is paying me 50'000 dollars to organize this event. And the summer's just beginning."

"Good. I'm glad." Doreah says, showing Missandei out before leaning against the porch rail and staring at the ocean.

* * *

Catelyn Stark, standing on her bedroom's balcony, observes the new owner of the house that once belonged to her sister Lysa and her husband. For a moment the sight of silver hair brings her back in time.

She shakes her head. Both Rhaegar and Daenerys Targaryen are dead, have been dead for years in fact. And while the silver hair isn't exactly a common trait in Westeros, there are still a few of Valyrian descendants left, the Velaryon family for example, and there were even more in Essos, especially in Lys.

Catelyn descends to the first floor and walks to the living room where her husband is talking on the phone and still busy with work.

"Looks like the new owner of the house next door is settling in." Catelyn comments casually.

Ned ends the phone call and looks at her. "Lucky girl, scoring that property. The real estate agent told me she's young, 25 at the most, basically the same age as Robb and Jon."

"Beautiful too, even from this distance."

"I guess that makes her doubly lucky." Ned says with a shrug. He doesn't seem to be very interested in the conversation.

"I don't believe in luck." Catelyn says in a cold tone.

"Do you believe in money then? From what I was told, she barely blinked when she heard the price. She's either careless with her money, or she isn't concerned with the price because such an expenditure would barely make a dent in her bank account. I bet on the latter."

"And why is that?" Catelyn asks, a little irritated. It is an irrational displeasure, born from the fact that she doesn't like the idea of someone else living in the house where her sister had spent the summer for the last fifteen years.

"Because her name is Doreah Martell."

"And?" Catelyn asks, not understanding.

" _And_ I looked her up. Curiosity, I suppose. I just wanted to know who our new neighbour was."

"What did you find out?"

"Her mother was a Rogare." At Catelyn's slight widening of her eyes, Ned nodded. "Yes, _that_ Rogare. The second biggest bank in the world after the Iron Bank. And you know who her father was? Doran Martell."

"So? I've never heard of Doran Martell."

"No, and you wouldn't. But I bet you heard of _Oberyn_ Martell."

"Of Martell Motors? _Of course_ , I've heard of him."

"That's her uncle. Doran was Oberyn's brother."

"Was?"

Ned nods. "Yes, the poor dear lost her parents in a car accident when she was little. She went from foster home to foster home after that. She must have come into her inheritance once she reached legal age."

Catelyn nods. When Ned's phone rings again, she asks her husband, "I thought you were taking the weekend off."

Ned turns his phone off, closes the laptop in front of him and takes off his spectacles. "There. I'm off." He gets up from the chair before kissing her soundly on the mouth.

"Ew, gross. Get a room, guys!" A voice from behind them distracts them from their effusions.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Arya. I didn't see you sneaking in." Ned says with a pretend-stern voice.

"I didn't see you sneaking out last night, either, Arya." Catelyn says with arms folded in front of her chest.

"I went over to Mycah's. I told you last night, before you went to bed."

"No, you didn't."

Arya rolls her eyes. "Mom, you're too young and too pretty to be this senile."

Catelyn smiles in amusement and watches Arya walk off. Her daughter has always some smart remark on the tip of her tongue.

"Remind me to buy her a cat bell." Catelyn says drily.

"Aw, let her have a little fun." Ned says, waving a hand in dismissal. "She got straight A's this year."

"No one's accusing her of being stupid."

* * *

Jon looks sternly at his dog, a great white husky with red eyes. "Ghost. The whole point of fetch is to bring the stick back when I throw it. I really gotta explain this again?"

Ghost whines a little, then barks and without warning, starts running. "Come here, Ghost!"

Ghost ignores him. Jon throws the stick but Ghost ignores that too. "Pick up the stick, come on Ghost!" Ghost keeps running. "Where are you going? Come back here."

Jon follows him, wondering what has gotten into him. When he reaches him, Ghost is sitting in front of the most beautiful woman Jon has ever seen. Ghost has his paw raised, seemingly waiting for the woman to take it. He barely notices her beauty at first though, too caught up in a memory that explodes in his mind all of a sudden. A memory of a little girl with silver hair and violet eyes. _Dany_.

 _An eight-year-old Jon is running on the beach with Ghost, who, at the time, is just a pup._

" _Come here, Ghost!" A little girl says. "I found a stick for you." Dany shows the stick to Ghost who bites on it._

 _Jon frees the stick from Ghost's teeth before throwing it into the water. "Fetch it, Ghost. Come on! Show Dany how it's done."_

" _Nice throw." Dany says with a smile. Jon feels himself blush at the compliment._

" _Thanks." He passes a hand through his curls, bashful. Dany flusters him all the time, and Jon doesn't understand why. Still, he likes it. And he likes spending time with her. She's his best friend._

"What are you doing Ghost?" Jon asks when he notices Ghost jumping the beautiful stranger. The silver-haired stranger laughs and hugs the dog to her. She pets him, not looking scared in the least.

"Ghost! Get down! What has gotten into you?" Jon asks his dog, bewildered. Then he turns towards the woman. "I'm so sorry. I have no idea what's the matter with him. He's not normally this friendly. He's kind of an old grump actually." He kneels on the ground to pet him together with the woman.

"It's okay. I don't mind." The woman smiles at her.

Jon notices mud on the woman's dress and almost groans aloud. "He got mud on your dress. I'm so sorry."

The woman waves a hand, uncaring. "Oh, that's not big deal."

"I could pay for the drycleaner. You know, to make it up to you?" Jon asks, his words coming out flirtier than he intends, though he can't say he minds.

"Oh no, it's fine. I got it. Thanks though."

"At least, let me buy you a coffee?"

The woman laughs. "Is that your usual strategy? Sending your dog towards your target so you get to introduce yourself?"

"No, no, I swear. Ghost has never behaved like this before."

"Okay, I believe you. Rain check on the coffee, though. I have another engagement today."

"Oh sure. I'm busy tonight too anyway. I'm Jon, by the way, Jon Snow."

The woman smiles at him and shakes his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jon Snow. I'm Doreah Martell."

Jon smiles at her, feeling flustered in a way he hadn't felt since he was eight years old. "Well then. See you around Doreah."


End file.
